A Million Little Pieces
by Grim Noire
Summary: [OneShot]Professor McGonagall goes home to tell her husband about Dumbledore's death.


_Title: A Million Little Pieces_

_Author: Grim Noire_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters recognized, nor do I own Potterverse. Both belong solely to J.K. Rowling, her legal people, etc. _

_Author's Note: This was inspired by a plotbunny I saw somewhere. (I can't remember who invented it, or where I found it.) I don't even own the plotbunny, just the words I've written. I hope you all enjoy this. I wanted to get this out while I had the inspiration, which is why it's so short. Even my one-shots are not this short, usually. Please read and review. _

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"He's dead. Albus is dead." The words barely come out of her mouth in a whisper. She couldn't believe it herself, after all. Albus Dumbledore _couldn't_ be dead. He was supposed to outlive her. If anything, they were supposed to go together side-by-side. That's how she always imagined it, anyway. Apparently Albus did, too, for he had not written his will yet. Maybe he didn't want a will. She might expect that from him. He'd left the school to her, so why not all of his possessions as well? She always wondered what his will would be like, even when she was much, much younger. But now, it did not surprise her that Albus had no dying wish to speak of. He just wanted to go on. She couldn't believe she had never figured it out. She just hadn't speculated it in that viewpoint. Albus was always the one to think outside the box. Sometimes, she cursed herself for being so terse and to-the-book.

Minerva had always considered herself to be uptight, maybe a little too uptight. But that was why she and Albus were such a dynamic pair. Where Albus was too avant-garde, she brought him right back on track with a little dose of reality. He always listened to her, and never rejected her ideas right away. In the end, they'd work out a compromise. That was why Hogwarts was so great in everyone's minds. She was his confidant, and he her sense of relief in a stressful world. They talked with each other frequently, about anything, really. He understood her concerns, and when he issued an order, she never questioned him. She didn't hesitate to act upon his wishes, because she trusted him. But maybe trust didn't matter anymore. After all, he had trusted Severus, and Severus had betrayed them all.

She didn't want to believe that it was Severus, or even that Albus had died, but somehow, she knew she had to. If she didn't keep a firm grip on reality and keep running the school strongly (as Albus would've wanted), then no one would be sane or safe anymore. She wasn't doing it for herself. She was doing it for Albus.

Some days, she just wanted to stop living, to end her life in any means possible, because living without Albus was too hard. He made her young again. He consoled her when she was grieving. He gave her those little creature comforts that she never asked for. But then, she didn't need to. He knew her all too well. But she went on for Albus. Albus wouldn't have wanted her to give up just because he died. He would have wanted her to thrive and take care of the school, the students, and most of all, herself.

She lay down carefully on her side, facing her husband's smiling face. She didn't know how he could smile after all that had been happening. Then again, he was a very happy person. And for that, she was grateful.

Her hair was still a bit damp from bathing, but it was plaited and coiled into a bun. She lifted a slender, bony hand to pull it out of the tight hairstyle. In thick, dark ribbons, it rippled across the white pillow she rested her head on. Her olive-coloured eyes closed over and she let out a very ragged breath.

"He was my best friend, you know," she spoke to her husband, who continued smiling at her, but listened even though she was clearly in pain. He was a good listener, too. Minerva liked that fact about him above anything else.

"Oh, what will I do without him?" Her lids lifted and she stared sleepily at the man across from her. "I don't know if I can go on without him. I'm afraid that things will just fall apart." Minerva was nearly unflappable. Now, tears were spilling out of her bleary eyes as if this was something that happened everyday. She turned and buried her face in the pillow. "Oh, Albus, what am I going to do with myself? I'm lost without you." The normally calm, collected Minerva McGonagall was falling apart at the seams, and the fabric of her reality was falling apart at lightning speed. There was no way it would ever be normal again, not with Albus gone.

She turned her head again, her eyes reddened and wet from the tears she cried. She watched her husband, who just blinked and smiled at her. "I should have known that you would only be calm about this." She swung her hand toward her husband's face, hitting his nose.

The photograph of Albus Dumbledore fell to the floor and the glass shattered into a million little pieces.


End file.
